


Dark Alley

by Lisa Martin (LisaM)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaM/pseuds/Lisa%20Martin
Relationships: Xander Harris/Spike
Kudos: 20





	Dark Alley

It's dark. Very dark. Not that I'm afraid in the dark, two years of lurking in dark places kinda makes you immune to that sort of thing. Even my night vision has improved; I can see two feet ahead of me now, instead of one. Kidding. It's actually much better than that, it always has been.

I haven't told anyone that I can see very well in the dark, what's the point? They won't believe me anyway. But this place is pitch black. I have to crawl alongside the wall to find the way out, can't see a thing.

Silently I curse myself for getting into this hole. I ducked into this alley when I noticed someone following me, thinking the darkness would give me the cover I needed. It did, but now I have to uncover and that's a lot harder to do. There are no streetlights nearby, the ones that are there are broken. This is an abandoned part of town, it used to be some kind of factory, but the vampires cleaned the place out. Literally. Lately there have been rumours that a nest of vampires is holding residence here, so I went to check the place out. Stupid, I know, but there's no use in thinking about that now. The first thing is to get out.

Man, it stinks. A smell of something rotting away, worse than the goriest sewer. A shiver runs down my back as my mind comes up with the scariest images. Dead bodies, dead, decaying bodies. Don't think about it, I urge myself.

I am pressed against the wall, the dampness seeping through my clothes, making the shivering worse. Well, at least I managed to escape my stalker. The moment that thought crosses my mind, hands come on my shoulders. The scream that wants to escape my throat is stopped by a hand over my mouth, a very cold hand. Oh terrific, I came here to find vampires, instead some psycho found me.

It's funny, but standing here, within an inch of losing my life, I'm not scared. The feeling that it had to end this way is overriding anything else. I stand and wait for my world  
to end. For long moments nothing happens. Then there is something on my neck, something soft. The idiot is nuzzling my neck! I want to ask it if it likes my taste, but the hand is still on my mouth, so all that comes out is some mumbling. I hear him..her grinning. It sounds amused, so I guess I'm pleasing him or her. Damn, I want to know if it's male or female. Or demon. Or vampire. All of a sudden that becomes very important. If I am going to die, I want to know who committed the crime.

My arm is twisted roughly and I yelp in pain. Then it is released and to my surprise a hand slowly rubs it. A touchy feely psycho, this is getting better and better. Then my mind connects the dots and the picture is not pretty. This one is going to have its fun with me before slaughtering me.

I am turned around roughly and finally the hand leaves my mouth. Immediately I scream, but it doesn't do me any good and neither does the struggling. Its grip on me only tightens. I wish I could see the bastard! "Hush," I hear. It's too soft to make out if it's a man or a woman. My hands determine what my ears can't, it's a man. Okay, that's it. Stop right now. Of course that doesn't happen, why should it? Nobody listens to Xander. Or maybe I didn't say it.

Hands trail along my body, up and down. Another shiver runs down my spine, a completely different one than the last time. My mind refuses to cooperate, but my body has a mind of its own. It's not that I'm squeamish about being with a man. Not that I ever was, but I don't feel like throwing up thinking about it. To be honest, I've been checking out guys for quite a while now, one in particular. And the one currently plastered against my body isn't that one. But ghods it feels good.

Imagine it's the guy who has been stalking your dreams for the last month or so, my mind supplies. It's not much, but I can do that. A cold hand beneath my T-shirt sends that image to high heaven. Or to low hell, take your pick. His hands would never be that cold. They will be nice and warm and gentle. Loving even. Oh hey, it works. My body responds the way it always does when I'm thinking about him, like a rocket about to be launched. Well, if I'm going to be dead soon, let's indulge in a fantasy.

Two hands beneath my shirt now, tracing lazy circles over my chest. Gentle they are and definitely nice. My arms are pressed against his chest, so I decide to copy the motion. I feel buttons and silently curse them. That thing will take forever to take off. Yet, they also fuel my fantasy, this is what he would wear. Lost in my imaginary world, I haven't noticed that the hands have gone from my chest. They're now somewhat more south, busy with unzipping my jeans. A slight panic attack hits me, but I shrug it off. I'm deadanyway. A chuckle as he goes down on his knees. What? Am I so ridiculous?

Rational thought decides to earn its paycheque and tells me he can't see a thing. That may be so, but it still hurts. My jeans are slid down, my boxers follow. He nuzzles my thigh, first the left, than the right. Sparks are racing over my skin and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm as bright as a lightbulb.

Flashlight!!

His mouth engulfs my member in one swallow and I'm a goner. He sucks on it, licks it, turning me into a quivering mass of jello. I trust my hips forward; it's an automatic  
motion, pure reflex. He doesn't seem to mind and sucks happily. Who needs lights when there are a million stars shooting in front of your eyes? It feels incredible, I neverrealised it could feel that way. The stars dissolve in too many colours to count, it's like I'm flying amongst them. I whimper as his mouths leaves me, the urge to shout that it isn't fair is overwhelming, but I press my lips together and wait. Yelling might not be a good idea.

My mouth doesn't stay closed for very long, as his lips descend on me, a tongue prying my lips apart. Confused now. Kissing I didn't expect, psychos don't kiss, do they? Certainly not this way, it's not harsh and brutal, but almost tender. A slightly bitter taste fills my mouth, something I identify as cigarette smoke, but there's another thing, a trace of something coppery.

Ghods, he can kiss. It's a good thing I'm against the wall; otherwise I would've been on the ground by now. My hands go to his head. In a sudden moment of clear thinking I realise that in tracing his features I can make out what he looks like. No such luck. My hands are batted away and he breaks the kiss. Smart thinking Harris, now you've pissed him off. He turns me around once more and I brace myself for the moment my face will hit the wall. He's angry, isn't he? Again he surprises me. An arm comes around my waist and he pulls me against his body. Oh God! The feeling of his hard cock against my ass is making all my senses burn, my heart rate is through the roof, my breathing comes in shallow gasps. When his hand finds my cock again, the world disappears around me. I am swept up in a wave of pleasure, lifted so high in the air that I'm afraid to look down.

The pressure builds until it almost becomes unbearable. With a shout Icome, a second later I feel something wet against my back and hear a deep groan coming from the man behind me. Spent, we hang against each other, his face buried in my shoulder. I give him a slight push. There's the sound of a grin close to my ear. He thinks it's funny. Then another sound.

"I always knew you were fun."

You know the feeling of a thunderbolt hitting you? Imagine that tenfold. I shove him away and run away as fast as I can, nearly tripping over my jeans. With one hand I hoist them up and try to tuck everything in while I'm on the run. Behind me  
I hear him laughing loudly.

"See you later, pet.


End file.
